Requiem
by Ani-maniac494
Summary: Death didn't come immediately for all of the Guardians. One of them remained for a short while…and she had questions to answer. Pre-series, set after Scarab's betrayal. Amenhotep POV. Cannon character death.


Disclaimer: It isn't mine, but if no one else wants it, I'll gladly take it off your hands. :)

A/N: This makes me feel old, but I was 10 when _Mummies Alive! _originally aired in 1997. I'm 25 now, and I'm still a fan. I have the episodes on tape and I still pull them out every once in a while to watch for fun. This fic has been floating around on my computer for quite a while, and I was finally inspired to finish it. It's a more serious take on that wonderful show, intended to fill in some of the gaps we were left with in the flashbacks of Scarab's betrayal. It focuses on Nefer-Tina. Obviously, the embalmers *had* to notice that she wasn't a man, lol. But she was still buried as a Guardian, apparently with the Pharaoh's blessing. This is my take on just how that happened.

As always, I thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, for His incredible mercy and grace.

* * *

**Requiem**

Amenhotep stood in the doorway of the healer's chamber, facing the star-filled sky, the warmth behind him a sharp contrast to the cool, night air. The room smelled of incense and earth, mixed with the tang of the healer's potions, and the flames of the torches on the walls were flickering with the breeze, making shadows dance along floor. Normally, the Pharaoh found the effect of the firelight merry, but tonight it seemed mocking, the shadows deeper, darker than ever before.

Rapses, his curious, determined, adventurous, talented little boy, was dead. Murdered.

Amenhotep had left Nubia as soon as the messenger had reached him with the news of Scarab's betrayal, but the journey was a long one, and he had only returned to Egypt this night. Nonetheless, the speed of his arrival made little difference. It had already been too late.

The Pharaoh closed his eyes, keeping the grief at bay. A king must remain strong for his people, and a husband must remain strong for his wife. He'd been told that his queen had collapsed when the news of Rapses's death had been delivered, her cries echoing through the palace until a physician had given her something to make her sleep. She lay in their bed now, lost in a haze of anguish. All of Egypt was mourning with her. Amenhotep could hear the people in the streets, their distant, haunting wails broken only by the wind, a constant, sad companion to the low murmurs of the healers as they treated the last, surviving Guardian.

Scarab had spared no one in his attempt to seize power. Ja-Kal, Armon, and Rath had been slain during the battle, their lives laid down for Rapses, whom they had tried to protect to their last breath. Their bodies had been found buried among the rubble of Scarab's Shabti army. Only Nefer, the charioteer, still lived. He had lingered for days, but a spear-thrust to his side meant that he, too, would soon join the others in the afterlife.

Their deaths added to Amenhotep's sorrow, for he'd considered them his friends. They would be honored, their families given recognition, land, wealth, perhaps even places in his court. Armon, he knew, had only his mother. Rath, an elderly aunt and uncle. Nefer…he was not sure. He had never spoken of his past. But Ja-Kal. Ja-Kal had a wife and a young son…a son who would now be denied his father.

Which was worse? To be a son without a father, or a father without a son?

"Sire?"

The healer's voice was quiet, subdued; Amenhotep turned, letting the shadows conceal his face. "Yes?"

"The Guardian is awake."

Amenhotep nodded in acknowledgment. "How long does he have?"

The healer's solemn expression answered before he did. "Not long, Sire. We have done what we can, but the wound is deep."

Amenhotep nodded again, and looked back to the horizon, listening once more to the sounds of mourning filling the city. "I shall speak with him," he said at last.

"Of course, Sire," the healer responded, but he did not move, his gaze troubled, every line of his body reluctant.

Amenhotep frowned. "What is it?"

The healer drew a deep, uneasy breath. "It's the Guardian, Sire. There is something you must know."

* * *

Amenhotep pushed back the curtain separating the inner room from the rest of the chamber.

It was as the healer had said.

A woman, not a man, lay on the healer's bed. Freed from the cap she normally wore, the long, brown strands of her hair were tangled and slick with sweat. Thick bandages wrapped her upper torso, and a sheet covered her legs, but the fabric did not hide her clearly feminine curves.

Amenhotep stepped closer and pain-filled eyes met his own.

"Sire," the woman gasped, and lowered her gaze.

Amenhotep studied her for a long moment. In the past, she'd seemed to be a young man with oddly pretty features, but now, without the disguise, she was simply a beautiful woman.

"What is your name?"

The woman kept her eyes lowered respectfully, and her body still shook with pain, but there was something proud in the way she held herself. "I am Nefer-Tina, daughter of Mkalbuti."

"You passed as a man."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because women are not allowed to drive the chariots of the Pharaoh. But when you asked me to serve you, I could not refuse."

He waited for a plea for mercy, but none came; the woman simply fell silent, awaiting his judgment.

Amenhotep let the silence linger.

He remembered the day he had met her. He had watched the chariot races with interest, having heard of a new driver who had quickly worked his way up in the standings. He'd been even more impressed with Nefer's skills when he had witnessed them for himself. Nefer handled his chariot with ease, his balance excellent, his reflexes quick. As soon as the race had concluded, and Nefer had come away the victor, Amenhotep had sent for him.

When the time had come to appoint Rapses's Guardians, Amenhotep had not been surprised when Nefer had defeated all challengers, and he hadn't hesitated to place Rapses's safety - and indeed, at times, his own - in Nefer's hands.

But could he say the same of Nefer-Tina?

This woman had lied to him. As Pharaoh, he could order her immediate execution or upon her death, sentence her to a nameless, faceless afterlife, condemned to wander anonymously for eternity.

A pain too great for the healer's medicine made the woman cry out, and she curled into her side, her hand clutching the sheet in a fist. But the tears of pain in her eyes did not belie the strength of her spirit. Woman or not, she had defeated each and every man who had challenged her.

Her skill was real.

That, Amenhotep could not ignore.

And, undeniably, Rapses…Rapses had always been fond of this particular guardian. His affection for Nefer hadn't been greater than his affection for Ja-Kal, perhaps, but his eyes always lit with excitement when he described the speed of Nefer's chariot, and more than once, Amenhotep had watched the cloud of dust on the horizon with amusement, certain that his son was the one who'd picked such a fast pace. But, he had known that Rapses was safe with the skilled charioteer, who had undoubtedly wished that it was as easy to tame the young prince as it was one of the horses. Amenhotep pushed down another surge of grief and stared hard at the woman once more.

"Did my son know?"

Nefer-Tina drew a sharp breath, still unable to speak, but when pain eased slightly, she nodded. "He knew," she answered quietly. "He was the only one who did."

The latter comment, Amenhotep realized, was to protect her fellow guardians. So, the camaraderie too, had been real.

The Pharaoh studied the woman again. Her skin was flush with fever, yet oddly pale, and faint tremors ran along her limbs. Her movements were growing sluggish, and her eyes had taken on a glassy sheen. He did not need a healer's knowledge to see that death was fast approaching.

"Nefer-Tina, daughter of Mkalbuti," Amenhotep began, and he saw her tense, clearly expecting to be condemned, "you lied to your Pharaoh, deceiving your king, and your fellow Guardians. But, you have served the Royal house well, with honor and bravery. And-" his voice caught as he struggled with the sorrow that lurked so very near the surface, "you tried to save my son."

Tears shown in Nefer-Tina's eyes once more, though this time, Amenhotep saw, the pain was not from her wound. "We failed, my king. Scarab-"

"Scarab will pay for his crimes," Amenhotep told her sharply, his words a vow. "He will pay dearly."

The Guardians had ensured that. They had fought Scarab and his army long enough for the palace soldiers to arrive, and join the battle, ultimately arresting the traitorous sorcerer. Had they not done so, he might have escaped.

"And Rapses," Amenhotep continued, "Rapses will live again."

It was the one comfort he had, the idea that his son would one day rejoin the world of the living, born again to dwell within the body of a kindred spirit. But, it was a hollow comfort, for when that day finally came, Amenhotep himself would be long-dead, buried in his tomb beneath the sands of Egypt.

"You, Nefer-Tina, will be there to guard my son with the others," he finished at last.

The woman met his eyes for a moment, surprise evident on her features; she quickly lowered her gaze again, bowing her head. "Thank you, my king."

She relaxed against the healer's bed then, her energy spent.

Still, Amenhotep remained at her bedside. A mere pardon, he knew, would not have been enough for Rapses. He would have wanted more for his Guardian…for his friend…for this woman who had paid a high price in the service of her Prince and her Pharaoh.

"Ask me what you will and I will do it."

Nefer-Tina's eyes fluttered open, surprise flickering in their depths once more. She licked dry lips, and when she spoke again her voice was hesitant. "Sire, I…I left my father's house when I was young. He won't know what became of me."

It was a simple request, far less than others might have asked in her place.

The Pharaoh nodded. "I will speak with him."

Relief and sorrow warred in her expression for a moment, old pain mingling with new, before she whispered her gratitude once more, and closed her eyes.

A few hours later, Nefer-Tina, the daughter of Mkalbuti, Guardian and royal charioteer, died as the sun rose over the Nile.

**Fin**

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A/N: According to a website I found, "Mkalbuti" means "chariot" in ancient Egyptian. It seemed fitting. :)

I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think!

Take care and God bless!

Ani-maniac494


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